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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238328">Imposters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroshit_10/pseuds/Kuroshit_10'>Kuroshit_10</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Death Note &amp; Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Dark, M/M, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:14:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroshit_10/pseuds/Kuroshit_10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Light has a serious case of capgras syndrome which leads him to murder over a dozen people near Seattle. L is a freelance detective working to catch the "Kira" murderer. L/Light but it's not supposed to be cute.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>L/Yagami Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Light Yagami</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For how much L hated funerals, he attended quite a few. It was his line of work, of course, that forced him to endure it all -- the sobbing family members, the forced condolences, the choked speeches. He suppressed a grimace as he searched the stagnant sea of black-swathed bodies for any one of the Yagamis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deputy director Soichiro Yagami was the twelfth victim of the murderer the locals had dubbed “Kira.” Up until this point, the Kira murders had been random and spontaneous, occurring in a variety of places at a variety of times with a variety of people -- but this murder was something new. Just two months ago, Soichiro Yagami’s wife, Sachiko Yagami, had been killed by Kira. The murder was what drove Soichiro, consumed with grief and vengeance, to join the Kira investigation before his death. Two Kira murders in the same family had never happened before, Kira’s victims were geographically spread (though all within Washington state), and therefore this murder in particular was of great interest of L. He was eager to talk to Soichiro’s children, to pry the secrets he knew existed from their minds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L’s search for any one of the Yagami children brought him unconsciously closer to Mr. Yagami’s casket. It was open, per the request of a family member, but the dead man’s face was covered in a thin, white cloth -- too hideous to display in public. As was the case with all of Kira’s victims, his face was mutilated beyond recognition. Every other part of his body was untouched, but the face (L had seen it) was ruined. Ripped open and beaten like a pinata at the world’s craziest birthday party. L had a stomach of steel when it came to gore, but even he felt himself grow queasy when he thought about it. It was certainly not a display for most eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L was startled out of his reverie by the voice, a smooth intone from behind his right ear. He turned slowly and found himself face-to-face with Light Yagami, Sorichiro’s eldest. Light’s sharp eyes were ringed with red, but his handsome face was marble -- cold and unchanging. He was dressed in an immaculate black suit, his brown hair falling neatly above his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, actually,” L said calmly. He examined Light carefully, probably for longer than was socially acceptable, raking his eyes up and down the young man. Light was around six feet tall and fairly muscular, but not notably so. He appeared to be in good health, and his files indicated that he exercised regularly. Could he be capable of a dozen murders? He was strong enough, trained with basic weaponry, and exceptionally bright, according to his school records. L bit his lip. Light would be a perfect suspect, if not for his solid alibi. Still, L needed to know more. He was not one to write off likely suspects willy-nilly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time,” L continued calmly, scratching at a spot on his head, “but first, how did you know I was looking for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light blinked, “Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You asked me if you could help. That’s not usually something one asks at their father’s funeral. So why did you ask?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light looked at him quizzically. His left eye twitched, indicating that he was annoyed, though the rest of his face was unchanged. He’s good at masking his emotions, L deduced. Most people would be openly angry at his ill-timed query, so why not Light? Did he always behave this way, or was he hiding something?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I asked,” Light began, “because one, you weren’t invited,” L smirked at that, “and two, you’re wearing a white t-shirt at a funeral. Besides, I saw you looking around earlier. You were searching for someone, and I thought that someone was either myself or one of my family members, seeing that this is my father’s funeral. Now, normally I would tell you to fuck off,” L raised an eyebrow, “but I’m tired of all of this,” Light gestured to the dreary sea of people, “so I’ll talk with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light led L away from the din and into a small book room off of the parlor. There, he closed the door and drew the blinds, flicking on the lights so the room was illuminated in a warm, honey-colored glow. Sighing, he sunk into a plush armchair and threaded his fingers through his hair. L studied him closely from where he stood at the doorway. There was something subtly off about Light’s expression, something L couldn’t put a finger on. Though there was little logical reason to suspect Light Yagami was Kira, something told L to be cautious of him. After almost a decade of putting away criminals, L could feel that kind of thing in his bones. The feeling was rarely wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume you’re with the Seattle Police,” Light said finally, crossing his legs. There was much that was phony about Light, but there was no denying the raw exhaustion in his voice, “And you probably want to ask me questions about my father. Also, I’d have to assume I’m a Kira suspect, is that correct?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a lot of assumptions,” L said slowly, rubbing his lower lip, “and you know what they say about those who assume.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light scowled, “But I’m right, aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you are correct on most accounts. I suspect you to be Kira, and in a way, I’m with the police force. Well, FBI actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, Light, who had previously been stone-faced, gawked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“FBI?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t too far from the truth, but it wasn’t honesty either. L had worked with the Federal Bureau of Investigation before, but he wasn’t technically a member. He was a freelance detective and only took up cases when they were of interest, which is to say the most difficult cases, but that was beside the point. L scrutinized Light’s face for any betrayed emotion, but found none. As always, his features were infuriatingly unreadable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad the Seattle Police Department aren’t the only ones handling this case anymore. They’ve done a piss-poor job with the investigation so far, and thanks to that-” Light trailed off, but L could guess what he meant. Thanks to that, both of Light’s parents were dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At seventeen, he was an orphan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand,” L said quietly. He pulled a packet of sugar out of his pant pocket and poured the grainy crystals across his tongue as casually as one might light a cigarette. Returning the empty packet to his pocket and ignoring Light’s irritated glance, he began the interrogation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll start with the basics. How long have you lived in Clyde Hill?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you know this already?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, but I’d like to hear it from you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light huffed, “I was born in Japan and I lived there until I was ten, then I moved here, so I guess that means I’ve lived here for almost seven years now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mother was Japanese?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, and my biological father was caucasian, but I never got to meet him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He died?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Left us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” L toyed with a strand of his unruly hair as he pretended to write down notes. His memory was extraordinary, so he didn’t require the written word, but interrogations were less awkward if he looked busy. Besides, he quite enjoyed drawing his suspects, though he was a terrible artist. Spatial intelligence was one capacity that failed him, unbeknownst to most, so his drawings were often horribly disproportionate. Still, they were fun to make and always seemed to capture the </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the suspect, despite technical inaccuracies. Today he was enjoying sketching the sharp angles of Light’s eyes and the defined contours of his face. When L took the time to think about it (which he had), Light was beautiful, in a harsh way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Tentatively, as if holding a ball of glass, L continued down his list of questions, gradually bringing them closer to the case. He did this with all interrogations to ease the suspect into the subject; if you started with the hard questions first, they were likely to get angry and leave. Besides, there was importance in the small, seemingly useless details. Often it was those details that solved the case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see you’re in college, what’s your major?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Law and Criminal Psychology.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to join the police like your father?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That fact about Light was both strange and exciting: he aspired to be a detective. Not only that, but he’d done detective work in the past, and he was good. According to sources at the SPD, he’d assisted his father in solving a ten-year-old murder case. He hadn’t received any of the credit, technically being too young to work on such cases, but it was well known by members of the police department that he’d done most of the heavy lifting. Not only was he adept in detective work, but he’d managed to graduate high school at 14 years old. L wouldn’t be surprised if he was a Wammy-level genius. He longed to have him tested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where were you at 6 pm on Thursday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this question, Light visibly tensed. He’d relaxed when talking about his childhood and career aspirations, just as L had suspected, but now the discussion was taking a darker turn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light took a deep breath, “Like I told the police, I was at school, on campus. Exams are coming up, and I’ve been cramming with a couple of my peers. Multiple people who can attest to that.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Yes, we’ve already contacted several of the students there, and they’ve all been able to confirm your presence. When are your exams, exactly?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“This week.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you planning on taking them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” At this, Light hesitated. He looked down at his hands, suddenly finding the creases on his palms riveting. Blinking rapidly, he sighed, “I don’t know. I think so. I need to finish college so I can get a job with decent pay, but I’ll still need another year to graduate. Sayu and I- well, our family has always been financially stable, but now that dad’s gone... I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L felt a plan formulating in the back of his head, but it was too far down in his consciousness for him to make any sense of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re only seventeen, and I believe that would leave you and Sayu in foster care for the time being. In that case, you shouldn’t have to worry about finances-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Light interrupted, jumping to his feet. L blinked. It was the most emotion he’d gotten out of the boy, and at a rather surprising topic. It was typical for children to abhor the thought of a foster family, he supposed, as most saw foster parents as a sort of “replacement” for their real ones, which led to conflicting emotions. But Light was no normal child. Why did the thought of foster care bother him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noticing his outburst and quickly harnessing his emotions, Light settled back into his chair with a plop. He tilted his head back against the cushion and sighed, exposing the pale expanse of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be eighteen in two weeks,” he explained to the ceiling, “surely the state can make an exception. In only two weeks I’ll be old enough to take care of Sayu. We can manage. I’m pretty smart, so I should be able to snag some sort of paid internship at the police department. I’ve gotten offers before, but I denied them to focus on my studies. We don’t need foster care at this stage in our lives.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The spontaneous plan which had been forming in L’s head was surfacing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you spoken to your sister about your plans?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light sighed, “not yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think she will agree with your sentiment?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Probably. I doubt she’ll have strong feelings one way or another. I don’t know if you’ve met her yet, but our dad’s death has been hard on her. Our mom’s death was hard enough, and now this -- she’s not the same. She’s not very… opinionated anymore.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>L frowned. The Yagamis had to be the most unfortunate family in the world. He hoped for Sayu Yagami’s sake that Light wasn’t Kira.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s understandable. One more thing, Light, before I leave. I’m not quite finished questioning you yet, but I think we can pick up at another time and place, and besides, I have an offer for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light raised an eyebrow, “offer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” L’s plan was coming together rapidly, the pieces sliding into place in his mind, “I’m offering you a position on the Kira task force. I think we could use your genius to catch Kira, and after your dad’s death we’re down a member.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light’s jaw dropped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t to say you’re cleared of suspicion, you’re still a suspect, but whether or not you are Kira I believe your help will be pivotal in our investigation. If you accept this offer, you’ll be compensated enough to support both the remainder of your education, as well as your younger sister. And of course, you’ll be able to work around your school hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light’s jaw returned firmly to its original position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you helping me out like this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This has nothing to do with your situation. I assure you, your position will not be charity and therefore shouldn’t be treated as such. If you’re not a valuable asset you’ll be removed from the task force,” L tucked his doodle of Light into his pant pocket and capped his pen, returning it to a spot behind his ear. He took a small, folded piece of paper out of his other pocket and handed it to Light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whether or not you accept this offer, I want you to meet me at this location tomorrow at 10 pm. Don’t be late. I know this fits with your schedule, so you have no reason to decline.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light scowled but stood to accept the paper from L regardless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll need a definitive answer by this time. I hope a day is long enough to decide.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” Light said smoothly, “Thank you, officer…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call me Ryuzaki,” L interjected lazily. He was going to reveal his identity as L to Light eventually, but it was not yet the time to do so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ryuzaki, then. I’ll see you tomorrow at 10.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L left then, opening the door to the study and slipping out without a backward glance. He pretended to leave the house, threading through the crowd until he was out of sight before trickling back again, crouching beside the side room’s door and peering through the crack. He could barely make out Light’s form. The young man was still sitting inside and his face was buried in his hands. L saw his shoulders heaving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L turned and left the Yagami household before the atmosphere could crush him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Monsters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Light, who is really Kira, the serial killer, navigates a meeting with L. L interrogates Light and can't help but feel sorry for him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Swearing</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Light Yagami had killed his father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, not really.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First off, Light’s real father died before Kira ripped his face open. One day Soichiro Yagami had left the house in good health to commute to his job at the Seattle police department, but when he returned home that same night he was no longer Light’s father, but a different man wearing his father’s face. An imposter. Light can clearly remember the sinking feeling in his gut as he first laid his eyes on the fake’s disgusting face. It looked every bit like his dad, but there was something undeniably off. Something about the fake’s expressions, or the way it spoke, or perhaps it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Whatever it was, that ineffable thing, it became apparent to Light the minute Soichiro walked in the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light remembers sitting at the kitchen table, pencil frozen inches above a page.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How was work, dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there was one thing Light had learned about the imposters, it was that they wanted to be treated like the real thing. They would deny their phoniness and question Light’s sanity. That’s what they always did, and Light had long since learned not to fall for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Secondly, Light had not killed his father because someone else had done it. Ryuk, to be precise. Ryuk, with only a first name and no home to speak of, was hopelessly addicted to crack, and Light was his only supply chain. There was a plethora of confiscated drugs at the police station, and as they were unguarded, Light had easy access. He hid the drugs in hollowed apples which he delivered to Ryuk every now and then. Ryuk lived in a shabby tent beneath an expanse of elevated highway, so it was easy to pass the deed off as volunteer work. Light supplied Ryuk drugs, and in return, Ryuk would do anything for him, including murder. Despite his addiction, Ryuk was bright enough to carry out Light’s orders flawlessly. Light preferred doing the killings himself, but sometimes he needed an alibi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And don’t forget, Ryuk, make sure the face is torn to shreds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? Won’t it help the police find Kira? They’ll know which corpses are yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just do what I say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In truth, Light wasn’t sure why he tore the faces of his victims. He hadn’t always done so. His first kill -- his grandfather, or the imposter in his grandfather’s body -- had been different. He’d simply swapped the elderly man’s medicine with rat poison, and the old fool had taken the drug without hesitation. The police had chalked it up to the foolish mistake of a senile man. Soichiro had arranged a funeral.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light remembers nearly losing it at the funeral. He remembers suppressing waves of panic as he looked down at his grandfather’s frozen face and as it stared blankly up at him, cool and clammy as clay. He remembers the deep regret that washed over him in that moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What have I done?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it was dead, the imposter looked exactly like his grandfather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ever since then he ruined the faces of his victims, even if they weren’t close to him. Sometimes the imposters were people he hardly knew, even strangers on the street. He didn’t know what it was about them, but at a glance he knew when he was dealing with a fake. It was rare, but it was undeniable. Others didn’t see it, but he did. Light was smart, and everyone said he had an eye for criminals. He was good at ridding the world of filth, and the process had been going smoothly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clenching his teeth, Light paced back and forth in his bedroom, threading his fingers anxiously through his hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ryusaki. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was clearly an alias; what was a white boy doing with a Japanese name like that? The detective must have been mocking him, the bastard. Already, Light hated everything about this Ryusaki. He hated the way he dressed, the way he stood slouched over like a cripple, the way he spoke slowly and in monotone, and the way he stared at Light, clearly convinced that he was Kira.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How did he know?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light’s alibi was flawless. His character was carefully construed and immaculate. There was no reason to suspect him other than the fact that both his parents were dead. But why not Sayu? Had Ryusaki even questioned her?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit!” Light swept his arm across his desk, brushing his books and pens to the floor. Balling his fists, he stared down at the mess he’d created. He needed a plan. If the FBI really was on the Kira case, and they already suspected him, then he was in trouble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bedroom window slid open then, interrupting his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“What’s up Light?” Ryuk wiggled through the crack in the window, falling onto Light’s pristine carpet, tracking dirt and mud everywhere, “you look mad. Did I do something wrong? Oh well. Do you have any apples?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Light took a deep breath, collecting himself, “Nice to see you, Ryuk. And I only have apples of the standard variety, but I don’t suppose that’s what you’re after.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Ryuk shrugged, “Normal apples are fine too, I find I have a taste for apples recently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light forced a chuckle, “I’m not surprised. Stay here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, boss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light left the room to get an apple from the kitchen. He wasn’t thrilled with Ryuk’s intrusion, but at least it was a distraction. Ryuk often visited Light’s house when he knew Light wasn’t busy, sneaking through the window or the back door. Normally he received a scolding from Light, but today Light wasn’t in the mood. Besides, he had something to discuss with the addict.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Returning to his bedroom, Light tossed Ryuk the apple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the way, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryuk caught the shiny apple in one hand and took an abnormally large bite out of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Is it about your dad’s murder? Because I swear I did everything-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Light hissed, glaring at Ryuk, “you’re being too loud. Sayu’s in her room down the hall, and you don’t want her overhearing us, do you? And no, you executed your instructions perfectly. I’ll get you another delivery of apples within the week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryuk grinned, “good, I’m running low.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re always running low,” Light smirked, “as for what I wanted to discuss with you- you’re going to have to be extra careful now. Some guy approached me at my dad’s funeral today, turns out the FBI is on the case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryuk chuckled, “The FBI? Wow Light, you’re into some deep shit now. How are you going to wiggle your way out of this one?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light scowled. As always, Ryuk was irritatingly detached from the situation. If Light was caught by the FBI Ryuk would be in trouble with the law, but the man didn’t seem to care. Perhaps it had something to do with the current state of his life. It’s hard to fear losing your freedom when there’s not much to lose. Still, even if he didn’t care, Ryuk didn’t have to be so damn annoying about the whole thing. He was always poking fun at Light, as if Light’s life was a tv drama.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t funny, Ryuk. I’m already a suspect, so I need you to keep your head low and let me know immediately if you notice anything. Do you understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Light. Whatever you say,” Ryuk let his head dangle off Light’s bed so he was upside down, then took a large bite of his apple, finishing it. Licking his lips, he swallowed the core. Light cringed. How could he eat like that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryuk grinned at Light’s obvious discomfort, then righted himself on the bed, dusting off his pants. Dirt flew from the denim onto Light’s comforter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I should be going. Nice talking to you, Light.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you just came to steal my food?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryuk grinned, “pretty much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. Goodbye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryuk slipped out the window once more, leaving it gaping open. Cool air sauntered into the room, led by warm rays of pink and yellow sun. It was getting late, and Light needed to get up early to go to class. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Changing into his pajamas, he clicked off the light then slid into bed, dusting off the grime Ryuk had left. He closed his eyes, but he was far from sleep. Both his parents were dead. He was an orphan and a suspect for serial murders-- murders he was guilty of nonetheless. Once upon a time, he had been the boy with a comfortable home life and a bright future, the one who always came in top of the class and who was named “most likely to be president” in the yearbooks. He was still an academic and a genius, but his prospects were no longer so bright. Where had he gone wrong? At murder, perhaps. But it wasn’t his fault the people around him sometimes turned into monsters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t his fault…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light had difficulty falling asleep that night, but he never shed a tear. He hadn’t cried in a long time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>L checked his wristwatch and scowled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The earpiece in his ear clicked to life, “There’s still two minutes until ten, Lawliet. The boy has time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Watari on the other end, his voice pacifying as always. Admittedly, the old man was L’s anchor; he was the person who knew L best, the only one he could trust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is Light Yagami we’re talking about. Two minutes is late by all accounts. This is unusual behavior for him; he’s obnoxiously punctual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watari chuckled through the earpiece, “Give it time. You’re reading into things too much, as always.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reading into things is part of the job description.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another chuckle, “I suppose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L looked down to check his watch again, and when he looked back up he found himself face-to-face with Light Yagami. The young man was leaning against a wall, his legs crossed, his hands tucked casually in his jacket pockets. A smirk stretched across his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you obsessively checking your watch? I’m on time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L flinched, mirroring Light by shoving his hands deep into his pockets. People rarely surprised him like this; he was smarter than that, more observant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was simply admiring the watch,” L lied, “it’s quite expensive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light raised an eyebrow, “I see. Should we go in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were standing outside a small Italian restaurant downtown. L had chosen this place for its late hours and seclusion, as well as his familiarity with several members of the staff. It was dark outside. A streetlamp flickered ominously in front of the restaurant, casting a sporadic glow on the quaint Italian decor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose we should.” Suppressing a chill (as the night was cold and windy), L gestured broadly towards the door in a sort of faux politeness. L, as a rule, was not polite, so any time he followed a social cue he did so ironically. Light frowned, catching on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They entered the restaurant quietly. There were few customers inside, so a waiter was able to swiftly direct them to an empty booth and take their orders. L noticed the waiter eyeing them peculiarly, probably reading the solemn mood and wondering what they were up to. If he thought about it, they made a strange pair. He and Light were alike in that they were both intelligent and aloof, but they were also starkly different; Light was charismatic and collected, while L was not. Watari had commented on the idea earlier, and L had blown it off, but now, with Light here, he could see the uncanniness. If anything, the fact made him more suspicious of Light. Anyone so like himself was not to be trusted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have the buttered noodles with extra cheese and butter,” L didn’t take his eyes off Light as he handed his menu to the waiter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have the house salad,” Light said, raising an eyebrow at L. Light was more laid back today, L noticed, than he’d been at his dad’s funeral. It was understandable of course -- funerals were emotional events -- but it was only a day later, and Light’s disposition had changed considerably. Was he forcing this flippant charisma, or had his mood really swung so rapidly? It was hard to tell. Light’s visage was unreadable; he had a talent for obscuring his true emotions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ordered a salad at an Italian restaurant. What a shame. Do you have something against noodles?” L drawled, tucking his feet under himself on the seat. He knew that he must look strange, and wondered if it bothered Light. If it did, the young man didn’t show it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you have any room to judge. You ordered buttered noodles with extra cheese and butter off the kid’s menu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L’s earpiece clicked on, “He’s right, Lawliet. You should start eating healthier one of these days, lest I outlive you,” Watari said. L suppressed a scowl. The old man was always on his case about eating healthier, but to no avail. L couldn’t run on anything but junk food; besides, his brain burned off enough calories for him to stay thin. At least, that’s what he told Watari. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Getting back to the topic at hand, you’re here because I want an answer from you, and I want to continue the interrogation. We’ll continue the investigation after I hear your answer. What did you decide?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to join the task force. I accept your offer,” Light’s gaze was firm; he showed no signs of hesitation. His hands were folded calmly in his lap, and he wasn’t fidgeting. A quick glance downward let L know that Light’s feet were planted firmly on the floor; that and his rigid posture made him look distinctly statuelike. His marble face was chiseled expressionless; the only thing life-like about him was his penetrating gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was disappointing that L couldn’t read the young man because this moment could drastically change the probability that Light was Kira. If he was, in fact, the infamous serial killer, there was a good chance he would want to join the task force to understand the inner workings of his enemy. Based on what he knew about Kira, that would be characteristic of him, as chances were Kira was extremely intelligent. There was also a reason Kira should not accept the offer. If Light was Kira, then joining the task force would allow L to investigate him with ease. He would need to be constantly on his guard -- one slip up could blow his cover. However, with the way Light could control himself, that wouldn’t be a problem. Still, Kira liked to be cautious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was also, of course, the possibility that Light wasn’t Kira. This theory was more probable (at a 92% likelihood), but something about it felt off. Perhaps, subconsciously, L wanted Light to be Kira. If he was Kira, all of the puzzle pieces would fit together seamlessly. Besides, he was the case’s only suspect in months.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” L said after a small pause, “I think you’ll be of great use to the task force.” He handed Light a slip of paper, “here is the location of our meeting place. Do not share this location with anyone. You will come here on Monday after your classes at whatever time is most convenient for you; we can discuss further details then. Do you understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The waiter arrived with their meals. L eyed his buttered noodles voraciously as they were set in front of him, waiting until the waiter was gone to attack them with a fork. He suppressed a grin as he noticed Light eying him disapprovingly. The young man picked at his own meal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Light, how is your salad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light scowled, “It’s fine. Are you going to interview me now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L swallowed another mouthful of noodles, “That was indeed my plan. I intended to work up to the difficult questions, but you’ve successfully thwarted my efforts, so I’ll start right away. What was your relationship with your father like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. We weren’t that close because he was often at work, but we didn’t fight that much, and he seemed to be proud of me and Sayu. Despite being gone a lot, he was a good dad. I grew closer to him after mom died. He was struggling with her death, but he stayed strong for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It sounds like he was a great man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L nodded into his buttered noodles, “Did he have any enemies that you knew of? Anyone who might wish to kill him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light shook his head, “Not that I know of. As I said, he was a good man -- not just to his family but to everyone. But he was a police officer, he could’ve picked up dangerous enemies through work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see. Now Light, this next question is somewhat of a test. You’re going to be working for me soon, so I want to measure your deductive skills.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, hit me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looking at yourself objectively, what reason would you have to kill both your father and your mother, as well as the other Kira victims? If you were Kira, what would your motive be? Please answer this carefully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pregnant pause. The corner of Light’s lips twitched in some suppressed emotion, and his eyes darted back and forth as he scrambled for an answer. L didn’t take his eyes off him as he ate more of his noodles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think-” Light paused, “I think my motive would be something like boredom. And perhaps pleasure. I think Kira takes pleasure in destroying the faces of his victims, that must be why the bodies he leaves behind are so gruesome. And as for me… hypothetically killing my parents, well, maybe they caught on and I didn’t want them to tell anyone. My mom could have discovered it accidentally, and my father as part of his investigation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L frowned, “No, I disagree. You’re ignoring an important fact: Kira destroys only the faces of his victims. If his goal was purely enjoyment, a means to end his boredom, why would he only touch the faces? Why would he leave the rest of the body? I think there’s a reason for him destroying the faces-- I think he does it to dehumanize his victims. He feels the strong need to kill them, perhaps out of fear, but he can’t bear to see their faces once he’s eliminated them. That’s my theory. I was hoping you’d reach the same conclusion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light’s gaze was ice, “That’s a viable theory. I hadn’t thought of it that way before. There’s only one problem: if Kira feels guilty when he sees his victims, how could he kill them in the first place? And, if I were Kira, how could I kill my own parents? What would I be afraid of?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a good question. I was wondering the same thing,” L rubbed his lower lip, his eyes trained past Light and out the window, his gaze somewhere beyond the darkened city streets. “How could you kill your own parents?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light surprised L by slamming his fork down and shooting to his feet. His face was contorted in obvious anger, his hands fists at his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop saying that!” L flinched into the booth as Light barked at him, “Why are you fucking with me like this?! I was at my father’s funeral yesterday, asshole! Both of my parents are dead! I’m a fucking orphan now, okay?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Light, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, shut up! You’ve been nothing but rude to me this entire time! Why are you so convinced I’m Kira, anyway?! I’m nothing like that monster! I’m not-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L said nothing, only watched as Light deflated. He watched him pinch the bridge of his nose and rub his temples, falling back into his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have blown up like that. It’s just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” L said softly, “It was my mistake. I was insensitive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light laughed coldly, “you were, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Picking up his last noodle, L reached into his pocket and pulled out thirty dollars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll let you finish your salad. I have more questions to ask you, but they can wait for now. And don’t worry about the bill,” he set the money on the table, “I’ve got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Light said gruffly, “I’d say it was a pleasure, but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The feeling is mutual,” L said, scooting out of the booth, “I’ll see you on Monday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light scowled and L left, offering a half smile to their waiter on the way out. The way Light had exploded on him was unexpected, to say the least. It certainly lowered the possibility that he was Kira-- if he’d really killed his parents then why had he reacted like that? Either way, L had to be more careful in the future. Clearly there was built-up emotion behind Light’s omnipresent mask, and the slightest fissure in Light’s marble composure could send it shooting violently outward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was right, Lawliet,” Watari said in his ear. The old man sounded tired, “you were too harsh. Think of his situation; you of all people should understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m an orphan?” L bit out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Partially,” Watari admitted, “I suppose your lack of emotional intelligence got in the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L forced a laugh, “that’s likely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mic clicked off just as a black suburban pulled up. L climbed inside, bumping his head on the roof of the car. He couldn’t stop thinking of Light. Of the young man’s contrived expressions. Of his anger. He was missing something, he could feel it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there was something else, though L hated to admit it to himself. Whether or not Light was Kira, L couldn’t help feeling for him. They were too alike, both orphans as Watari had mentioned, but both geniuses too, both alone in the world. He didn’t want to think of the implications if Light was, in fact, Kira.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All things considered, he dreaded seeing Light on Monday.</span>
</p>
<p>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have any feedback for me I would appreciate if you could leave it a comment :) I love to hear from everyone, it really motivates me.</p>
<p>As for the next chapter, I haven't even begun working on it yet. My inspiration comes at the strangest of times, but I will try to post another chapter in two weeks.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I appreciate both positive and negative feedback, so please comment!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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